


Future Laments

by oceanicmars



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fix-It, Letters from Future, based off the manga/anime Orange, first time writing abt dragon age whoo!!!, tags will update with characters/warnings as time passes!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 15:38:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8019571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanicmars/pseuds/oceanicmars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A letter 10 years from the future is delivered to Alistair at Ostagar, begging him to change the events to follow in order to save the new warden, Ryleigh Surana. Though knowing what the future holds, will he be able to save her from her pain?<br/>--- ----- ---<br/>A Dragon Age: Origins fix-it fic based off the manga/anime Orange, my first contribution to the DA Fandom! <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Future Laments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why hello there! firstly, thank you so much for clicking on this fic! it's my first time ever writing for the DA fandom, and knowing that you, dear reader, clicked on this fic makes me so happy!! so thank you!! i do hope you enjoy this first chapter!!!

`As a Grey Warden, you don’t get many letters. You travel too much. You can send them out, but receiving them was hard.

So when Alistair received an anonymous letter, addressed to him, well, it was quite peculiar. When it was handed to him, the messenger was smirking somewhat, saying perhaps he had made an impression on someone. Alistair wondered if they meant a good impression or, the usual, a very bad impression.

Either way, he decided he may as well open it, see what was inside. Who knows, maybe someone appreciated his hard work finally. That, or it was probably someone upset about his jokes.

 _Probably_ the latter.

 

The first thing he pulled out was a small card, with the words,

“ _To the Alistair 10 years in the Past_ ”.

He blinked. He reread, once, twice.

That was his handwriting all right. But, when had he written a letter to himself, and why ten years in the past? This…

“This _has_ to be an elaborate prank from someone,” he chuckled aloud, shaking his head, “Very clever. I’m curious, what does the me ten years in the future have to say?”

He took the letter out, amused.

 

> _Dear Alistair,_
> 
> _How are you? By now you should be at Ostagar, ready to fight the potential Blight. Duncan has already left to go recruit more Grey Wardens, and should arrive tomorrow, to help fight off the darkspawn alongside the king._
> 
> _I regret to inform you that you will not participate in the Battle of Ostagar. Rather, you will play an important role that changed Ferelden forever_

Not participate in the battle? Alistair was a bit offended. Sure, he wasn’t as experienced as the others, but he could help! He could fight!

This was obviously now a _rude_ prank set by the others. He was _going_ to fight. An important role that changed Ferelden, bah, he’s heard better stories than that.

He continued reading.

 

> _You may be wondering why I have written this letter to you. 10 years in the future, there are many things I regret. Things I wish could've changed, wish that I had done. I want you to do what I could not in the following days to come._
> 
> _Tomorrow you will met a young elven mage named Ryleigh Surana. She is only 18, inexperienced of the real world and eager to travel. She will become a Grey Warden._
> 
> _The other two recruits will die._

 

 _Well, that’s quite the shame_ , Alistair thought, _We’ll see tomorrow though, me in the future._

 

> _Tomorrow, you will head to the Kocari Wilds with all three recruits, where you will meet Morrigan, a mage living within the wood with her mother, Flemeth. They will have the Grey Warden treaties Duncan sends you to find. Try not to piss off Morrigan too much, she’s important, even if she is somewhat of a bully._

 

 _I’ll try future me_ , Alistair thought. A lot of planning and thought must of gone into this prank, it _was_ quite elaborate. Cheers to the ones who came up with it.

 

> _Once Ryleigh becomes a Grey Warden, the two of you will be tasked with lighting the beacon to signal Loghain's army to come assist King Cailan and Duncan. I am sorry to inform you that help will not come. Loghain will betray you, allowing the deaths of the King and Duncan, as well as sparking a Civil War within Ferelden._

 

Alistair paused. The deaths of the King and Duncan? That was ridiculous! There was no way that was happening, not on his watch.

But then he took a deep breath, and began to laugh. What was he getting worked up for? This was a prank, a huge prank by the others to spook him out of tomorrow. There was more to read but, he’d save it for another time. It was late. He needed to go to bed.

As he lay there, staring up at the stars, he couldn’t help but wonder, who was Ryleigh? Why was she important? He closed his eyes, and sighed.

 

He’ll know soon enough, wouldn’t he.

* * *

 

“Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must,” the mage barked, clearly upset. Did Alistair care in the slightest? No. When had he ever?

“Get out of my way, fool!” he proceeded to say, to which Alistair couldn’t help but realize the mage had begun to leave. So soon? He just brushed it off, and now turned to see who the mage had directed his anger at.

 

A small little elf, her head down as she scooted to the side, away from the angry mage, stood before him, skin pale from not enough sun, a small stick of a girl really. He grinned, and approached her.

“You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together,” he proceeded to say, and the girl raised her head, clearly a bit startled.

 

She was beautiful.

She had bright eyes filled with curiosity, a small smile that made his heart skip a beat, and he ended up holding his breath for a second.

 

“You are a strange human,” she said, proceeding to giggle. His heart melted a bit.

“You’re not the first woman to tell me that,” he managed to say, before realizing introductions were in order, “Wait, we haven’t met have we? I don’t suppose you happen to be another mage?”

Dumb question. _Very_ dumb. She’s wearing robes and has a staff, curses Alistair, get your act together.

 

“We haven’t met,” the girl said, thankfully ignoring his idiocy, “You must be Alistair.”

“And that makes you Duncan’s new recruit I suppose,” he said, and the girl nodded, “Glad to meet you.”

The letter’s words popped into his mind. Something about a girl, what was her name…

“As the junior member of the order,” he continued, though his mind was elsewhere, “I’ll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining.”

 

“Pleased to meet you!” the girl chirped out, “My name is Ryleigh.”

 

“Right, that was the name,” Alistair said, to which Ryleigh grinned even more. The girl who becomes a Grey Warden. Well, the others certainly had high hopes for her. “You know, it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why is that.”

“You want more women in the Grey Wardens, do you?” Ryleigh asked, grinning somewhat, perhaps teasing him. He couldn’t help but smile back.

“Would that be so terrible? Not that I’m some drooling lecher or anything--” her eyes glimmered in curious amusement, “-- please stop looking at me like that.”

“It’s probably because we’re too smart for you,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and looking rather proud of that statement. Oh, he liked her.

“True, but if you’re here, what does that make you?”

She blinked, before smiling shyly and saying, “Just one of the boys?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle a little before saying, “Sad, isn’t it?”

She proceeded to pout, puffing her chest out a bit, trying to make herself look taller perhaps.

“I can handle myself better than most!” she declared.

“I’m getting that impression,” Alistair immediately replies, and he just grinned like a fool at her face.

 

They proceeded to head over to where Duncan was, Ryleigh (who would liked to be called Rye, he noted) asking many questions about Grey Wardens, the Blight, Duncan, and surprisingly, him. She was eager to learn, that’s for sure. And they way her eyes lit up as he told her whatever he knew, it was quite sweet. And in turn she told him of the Circle, and how she read books of many events, people, but never experienced it. This was her first time outside ever since she was a baby.

That was honestly the most saddest thing he had heard. No sunlight, the outdoors, even parents, she had none of that. He was lucky he had Arl Eamon all those years ago, and Duncan.

 

She had no experience of anything.

 

Meeting up with Duncan, there were two other recruits waiting, Ser Jory and Daveth. According to the letter, they wouldn’t survive. Shame. Though he feels bad for thinking it, someone like Rye with no experience of combat or anything would easily fall in battle. These two had a chance.

But then again, the letter _was_ a prank. He shouldn’t think too hard on these things.

Duncan proceeded to task them with getting Darkspawn blood, and Alistair was tasked with getting the Ancient Treaties within the forest. He wasn’t surprised, the letter did inform him of this.

So with that, they headed out.

 

After combating many wolves, possibly mad from the Blight, he took back his previous thoughts about Rye. She was an exceptional mage, barely getting a scratch and fending off the beasts with skills and power one would not expect from her. She would be fine as a Grey Warden, that’s for sure.

 

Now, being the senior warden, Alistair remained quiet and fell back. He was to be a supervisor of sorts after all, he had to see how the others acted when leaderless. So when Ryleigh took charge rather than the others, he was a bit impressed. Already having proven herself an excellent warrior, watching her guide and lead the group around the forest was fascinating. As they fended off darkspawn, collected items and just overall explored, it was quite obvious Rye was leader material.

And as he had said once before, he was impressed. Ser Jory, who he had heard was trained in combat, an excellent fighter, and Daveth, clearly more experienced and eager to become a warden, followed Rye as if it were the natural thing to do. Neither protested to the girl proudly walking ahead of them, who would only to fall back in battle and command them where to go and what to do. Being a leader was already admirable enough, so knowing Rye was inexperienced with the world made her stand out a bit more than the other two. She could fight, she could command.

 

She’d be a great warden.

 

Eventually, they stumbled upon fallen ruins, where the Ancient Treaties should be. Emphasis on the should.

 

“Well well, what have we here?” a sultry voice said, to which everyone turned to seek the source. A woman stood before them, a sly smile on her face as she descended down the stairs. When had she gotten there?

“Are you a vulture, I wonder?” she continued, “A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these Darkspawn filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?”

 

Alistair didn’t like her.

 

“What say you, hm? Scavenger or intruder?”

 

Rather rude, wasn’t she.

 

“I am neither,” Rye said, fairly calm, in fact Ali couldn’t help but detect a hint of awe in her voice, “The Grey Wardens once owned this tower.”

“Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse,” the woman proceeded to say, as she began to walk past them, “I have watched your progress for some time. “Where do they go,” I wondered, “Why are they here?” And now, you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?”

 

Ali needed to step in obviously.

 

“Don’t answer her. She’s looks Chasid, and that means others may be nearby--”

“Oh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?” the woman said, cutting him off. He glared at her.

“Yes, swooping _is_ bad,” he said slowly. Curse her.

 

“She’s a Witch of the Wilds, she is!” Daveth suddenly said, “She’ll turn us into Toads!”

“Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?”

 

Yup. Alistair did _not_ think he was going to get along with this woman.

 

“You there,” she began, looking down at Rye, “Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”

“I am Ryleigh, pleased to meet you!” she responded happily, to Alistair’s dismay.

“Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds,” the woman said, “You may call me Morrigan.”

 

> _… you will meet Morrigan, a mage living within the wood with her mother, Flemeth. They will have the Grey Warden treaties Duncan sends you to find._

 

Alistair stared at Morrigan. No way. Did the others really know this would happen?

 

“Shall I guess your purpose?” Morrigan began, “You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?”

“Here no longer?” Ali began, taking his frustration from the letter out on her. Unfair, but it was all he could do, “You stole them, didn’t you? You’re... some kind of… sneaky… witch-thief!”

 

Smooth Ali. Very smooth.

 

“How very eloquent,” Morrigan quipped, “How does one steal from dead men.”

“Quite easily, it seems,” Ali grumbled, knowing that the others must be in cahoots with this Morrigan, which is why she got those treaties, “Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them.”

“I will not, for twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened.”

“Then who removed them?” Rye asked, and yes, Ali wanted to know as well.

“Twas my mother, in fact.”

 

So the mom, Flemeth or whatever, was in cahoots too. Great, just great. The others really made this one big elaborate prank now haven’t they.

“Your mother?” poor little Rye asked again, and Morrigan smirked.

“Yes, my mother,” she said, “Did you assume I spawned from a log?”

Rye bit her bottom lip, clearly a bit hurt from the snark Morrigan was showing. Ali felt a twinge of annoyance, this woman should not be bullying her.

“A thieving, weird talking log perhaps,” Alistair said, hoping this woman would back off.

“Not all in the Wilds are monsters,” Morrigan began, leaning on the pillar beside her, “Flowers grow, as well as toads.”

 

Poetic. Still a jerk.

 

“If you wish, I will take you to my mother. Tis not far from here, and you may ask her for your papers, if you’d like.”

“We should get those treaties, but I dislike this,” Ali said, loud enough that hopefully Morrigan heard as well, “Morrigan’s sudden appearance, it’s too convenient.”

Convenient in the sense that someone within the Grey Wardens was making all this happen, but he wasn’t going to say that.

“I say we go with her!” Rye said, and Ali could tell she was extremely enthusiastic, much to his dismay. Why did she like this woman?

“She’ll put us all in the pot, she will, just you watch,” Daveth cried, obviously not happy. Glad to see someone with some common sense.

“If the pot’s warmer than this forest, it’d be a nice change,” Ser Jowan said. Aright, true, Alistair couldn’t deny that.

 

And with that, the group followed Morrigan to her mother, Flemeth. Alistair was more than just displeased at this point. She was a batty woman honestly, and her saying that the seal protecting the treaties wore off sounded accurate, but it didn’t make him feel any better about these women having them. Once Morrigan escorted them out of the woods, well, he was just relieved to be done.

 

“I have something I want to do first!” Rye said, “Give me just a second!”

And with that, she scurried off. Ali shrugged, and headed over to Duncan.

“You return,” he began, before raising an eyebrow, “Where is Ryleigh.”

“Oh, she’ll be back eventually,” Ali said, “Went to do something.”

“I wish to start now Alistair, why did you--”  
  
“Sorry! Sorry, I’m here now,” Rye called, rushing over with a small smile on her face, “Did what I had to, haha. Sorry.”

 

“So, you return from the Wilds,” Duncan said, looking somewhat disapprovingly at Rye, “Have you been successful?”

“We have!” Rye said, proudly beaming up at the man. Ali couldn’t help but end up smiling as well.

“Good. I’ve had the Circle Mages preparing. With the blood you retrieved, we can begin the Joining immediately.”

“Uhm, before that, maybe we should tell you about Morrigan and her mother first…”

“There was a woman at the tower and her mother had the scrolls,” Ali quickly added, relieved Rye brought it up, because Maker, he had been wanting to inform Duncan about this ridiculous event, “They were both very… odd.”

“Were they wilder folk?”

“I don’t think so. They might be apostate mages hiding from the Chantry.”

 

From the corner of his eye, Ali watched as Rye cringed when the word chantry fell from his lips.

 

“I know you were once a templar, Alistair,” Duncan began, a stern look on his face, “but Chantry business is not ours. We have the scrolls; let us focus on the Joining.”

Damn. Ah well, Alistair would tell Duncan later of the events that unfolded.

 

“Excuse me, but,” Rye jumped a bit when Ali and Duncan turned to look at her, “Now will you tell us what this ritual is about?”

Duncan’s face fell a bit.

“I will not lie,” he began, “we Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later.”

“You’re saying this ritual could kill us?” Rye asked, fear evident in her eyes. Ali pitied her.

“As could any Darkspawn you might face in battle,” Duncan said, “You would not have been chosen, however, if I did not think you had a chance to survive.”

With that, Rye smiled a bit, slightly relieved. Ali wondered if the letter’s premonition would truly come true.

“Let’s go then,” Daveth said, “I’m anxious to see this Joining now.”

“I agree, let’s have it done,” Ser Jory chimed in.

“Then let us begin. Alistair,” Duncan looked to him, and the lad nodded, “take them to the old temple.”

 

And so he did. The air was tense, as Ali braced himself for the possible loss of the recruits. Well, for two of them at least. If the letter were true, Rye would survive.

But then again, that was an elaborate prank.

 

Right?

 

“The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it,” Ser Jory said, snapping Ali from his thoughts and back into reality.

“Are you blubbering again?” Daveth asked, sneering.

“Why all these damned tests? Have I not earned my place?”

“Maybe it’s tradition. Maybe they’re just trying to annoy you.”

Neither, sadly, Ali couldn’t help but think.

“Calm down,” Rye said, her voice no more than a soft breath, barely audible, “There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way,” Ser Jory murmured, and Ali couldn’t help but feel extreme pity for the man, “If they had warned me… It just doesn’t seem fair.”

“Would you have come if they'd warned you?” Daveth asked, and Ser Jory looked away, unable to answer, “Maybe that's why they don't. The Wardens do what they must, right?”

“Including sacrificing us?” Ser Jory asked, irritation evident in his voice.

“I’d sacrifice a lot more if I knew it’d end the Blight.”

 

Ali respected Daveth in that manner. He felt the same way. It’d be a shame to lose him.

No. The letter was a prank. Stop thinking about it.

 

“That’s a horrible thing to say,” Rye murmured under her breath, but it was still audible to everyone.

“Well, you saw those darkspawn,” Daveth somewhat hissed, before looking at Ser Jory, “Wouldn’t you die to protect your pretty wife from them?”

“I…” Ser Jory’s voice trailed off, as he bit his bottom lip.

“Maybe you’ll die, maybe we’ll all die. If nobody stops these darkspawn, we’ll die for sure.”

“I’ve just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade--”

 

“At last,” Duncan interrupted, startling poor Rye, “we come to the Joining.”

“The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight,” Duncan said, beginning the spiel Ali heard when it was his Joining, “when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint.”

“We’re… going to drink the blood of those… those creatures?” Ser Jory asked, face pale.

“As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you. This is the source of our power and our victory.”

“Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint,” Ali chipped in, “We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the Archdemon.”

“Those who survive?” Rye asked, turning to Ali, to which all he could do was look away.

“Not all who drink the blood will survive,” Duncan answered in his stead, “those who do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we pay.”

 

The air was tense. The recruits were scared. Ali didn’t blame them.

 

“We speak only a few words prior to the Joining,” Duncan said, “but these words have been said since the first--” he looked to Ali, “Alistair, if you would?

He nodded, and bowed his head.

“Join us, brothers and sisters,” he said, “Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you.”

 

And with that, Alistair stepped to the side to silently observed. Duncan handed Daveth the chalice, filled to the brim with the blood of darkspawn. He drinks from it, and Alistair watches as he begins to struggle, choking, until finally, he falls.

“I am sorry, Daveth,” Duncan murmurs, before looking to Ser Jory, “Step forward.”

“But… I have a wife,” Ser Jory whimpers, taking his sword out, “A child! Had I known…”

 

Alistair steps away.

 

“There is no turning back,” Duncan states in a grim tone.

“No! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!!” Jory cries.

Duncan takes his dagger out, and Jory lunges. But it ends all too soon as Duncan skillfully deflects it, and sinks his blade into Jory’s chest.

“I am sorry,” he says once more. Ali stared at the corpse in a mix of remorse and shock. He then looks to Rye. She looks absolutely terrified. Duncan looks to her as well, “But the Joining is not yet complete.”

Handing her the chalice, he says, “You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good.”

Rye looks at it for a moment, before taking a deep breath, and bringing the cup to her lips. She drinks, prepared for whatever happens.

 

The letter echoed in Ali’s head. She will become a Grey Warden.

 

“From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden,” Duncan says, echoing Ali’s thoughts. It startles him, but he says nothing. Instead, he watches as Rye struggles a bit, but to his relief it is not how Daveth struggled. So when she does fall as well, he hurries over to her, waiting for her to reopen her eyes. Duncan comes over as well, and stands beside him.

When she opens her eyes, blinking once, twice, before focusing on the two, Ali smiles.

 

“It is finished,” Duncan says, “Welcome.”

Rye begins to sit up, obviously a bit disoriented. Ali backs up to give her space.

“Two deaths,” he murmured, “In my Joining, only one of us died, but it was… horrible. I’m glad you did make it through.”

“How do you feel?” Duncan asked, as Rye brushed the dirt and dust off her robe, and looked at him with a mix of fear and anger.

“I still can’t believe you killed Ser Jory,” she murmured. Ali was a bit surprised, since her expression called for muttering, grumbling, or even yelling. And yet, in a small calm voice, she states a troublesome event. It was odd, a bit unsettling if anything.

“Jory was warned that there was no turning back, as were you all. When he went for his blade he left me no choice. It brought me no pleasure to end his life. The Blight demands sacrifices from us all. Thankfully, you stand here as proof they are not all made in vain.”

 

Rye just looked down at her hands, and intertwined them, clearly bothered by the event. Ali needed to change the subject.

“Did you have dreams?” he asked, “I had terrible dreams after my Joining.”

Before Rye could say a thing, Duncan cut in.

“Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn, as we all do,” he said, “That and many other things can be explained in the months to come.”

 

No, Duncan, why couldn’t he see he was just making Rye uncomfortable? Ali frowned, before remembering the key thing to Joinings.

 

“Before I forget,” he said, “There is one last part to your Joining. We take some of the blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us… of those who didn’t make it this far.”

He handed her the premade pendant, and she took it, holding it carefully in her hands. She looked in awe at it, and Ali couldn’t help but wonder if this was her first keepsake.

“Take some time,” Duncan said, “When you are ready, I’d like you to accompany me to a meeting with the king.”

“What kind of meeting?” Rye asked, thankfully before Ali did.

“The king is discussing strategy for the upcoming battle. I am not sure why he has requested your presence. The meeting is to the west, down the stairs. Please attend as soon as you are able.”

And with that, Duncan began to take his leave. Ali followed, after glancing at Rye to make sure she was okay. She was staring down at the amulet, still in awe.

 

“Duncan,” he began, once he caught up, “I have a question. Do you know anything about the other Wardens pranking me?”

“Pranking you?” Duncan asked, in a way that made Ali feel foolish.

“Yes, pranking me.”

“Alistair, we are at war. Nobody would have the time to prank you, nor would they even want to.”

“Well, it’s just, things have seem odd lately and--”

“Alistair,’ Duncan said sternly, “I have things to attend to. If you continue to feel ‘pranked’ after tonight, then I will talk to the others and see if they truly are bothering you. For now, go rest up.”

“... Yes Duncan,,” Alistair mumbled, and headed off. He managed to see Rye running over to the war table where Duncan was now at, alongside the king and Loghain.

 

The letter echoed in his mind.

 

He headed to his bedroll and pack, and took the blasted thing out. Oh, how he wanted to rip it to shreds. But instead, he took it out, and reread a certain passage that bothered him all day.

 

> _I am sorry to inform you that help will not come. Loghain will betray you, allowing the deaths of the King and Duncan, as well as sparking a Civil War within Ferelden._

 

… With how things had gone, this didn’t seem far from the truth. But it couldn’t actually occur, could it? Duncan was, well, he was Duncan! He wouldn’t fall in battle. And Loghain, he wouldn’t betray the king, that was ridiculous.

So he read a little bit more, to see what was written.

 

> _Trying to change this event is probably impossible. Because of it, the future is shaped in a way nobody could have foreseen. It’s important, and though it pains me to say it, you must not tell Duncan anything. You must let this event occur, for Ferelden, no, the world’s sake. You have to accept Duncan’s death._
> 
> _This letter I am writing to you, I want you to do what I could not. I don’t want you to live with regrets like I did._
> 
> _I want you to save Ryleigh._

 

Alistair felt a mix of emotions. Allow Duncan’s death? Accept it even? What was this nonsense? He was, he felt extremely confused if anything. Tucking the letter in it’s envelope, he almost put it in his pack. But something made him put it in the inner pocket of his armor, with him. He didn’t know why he was keeping the blasted thing but, he felt like he should.

The thing he was wondering the most though, was why save Ryleigh? He could read ahead, yes, but the whole Duncan’s death thing wasn’t something he could just skim over and accept. No, it just, it sounded ridiculous. All of it.

 

“Alistair?” a voice said, and he jumped a bit, whipping his head to the source. Beside him stood Ryleigh, a bit startled but smiling softly, who said, “Duncan wants us to meet him by the fire.”

“Oh,” he breathed out, “Right. Of course. How was the meeting?”

“Interesting,” Rye said, as they begun to walk, “The king is very enthusiastic. Quite different from my books of regal and majestic kings.”  
  
“What, you don’t find the king regal or majestic?” Ali asked, grinning.  
  
“Not really, then again, he isn’t really my kind,” Rye said, “Perhaps he is to you humans.”

“What, humans aren’t regal enough for you?”

“Hardly. I’ve watched my fair share of humans and I assure you, they barely left an impression.”

“Quite a stubborn judge. Let me guess, just for curiosity’s sake, I’m one of those humans.”

Rye just grinned, shrugging. Ali jokingly scoffed, and nudged her with his elbow, to which she playfully nudged back. They both giggled like fools.

 

Before he knew it, they were before Duncan.

“You heard the plan” he said, more to Ryleigh than to him, “You and Alistair will go to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit.”

Ali’s heart sank. He read about this in the letter. He already knew about it. So as Duncan answered Ryleigh’s questions, he only watched Duncan. If, and this was only if, the letter were true, this would be the last time he’d ever talk to, or even see Duncan. This was his last moments with his savior, his mentor. He had to ‘accept it’, as the letter said.

 

Maker, this hurt so much.

 

“Duncan,” he said, just before the man left, “may the Maker watch over you.”

Duncan smiled softly at Ali, the same smile he always gave whenever Ali was worried. A reassuring one, filled with warmth.

“May he watch over us all,” he said, and turned to leave.  


Ali really, really hoped the letter was fake.

 

* * *

 

The battle had begun by the time the two reached the bridge to the tower. War cries, the sounds of metal clashing against each other, the crackling sound of fire, everything was booming in Alistair’s ears. He looked to Rye, who clutched her staff tightly, obviously afraid.

“Let’s cross the bridge and get to the Tower of Ishal!” he yelled over the din, and she nodded, the two beginning their rush across the bridge. Boulders lit on fire flew overhead, some crashing into the soldiers lined up beside them. It was brutal.

Once they crossed the bridge, Ali first spotted the two soldiers standing before the tower, battered and out of breath. When they approached them though, one looked at them in hope.

  
“You… you’re Grey Wardens, aren’t you?!” he cried, “The tower… it’s been taken!”

“What are you talking about, man?” Alistair asked, dumbstruck, “Taken how?!”

“The darkspawn came up through the lower chambers! They’re everywhere! Most of our men are dead.”

Ali gritted his teeth. Did the letter mention this? He couldn’t remember.

 

“Then we have to get to the beacon and light it ourselves!” he said, to which Rye nodded. Heading towards the tower, as expected, were darkspawn. They were indeed everywhere, and Maker, they were hideous. Ryleigh flinched when one snarled at them, but she quickly gained her composure and began to fire spells at the beasts. Ali would not falter either, he charged and slashed at the creatures, making sure every hit counted.

They continued onwards, fending the darkspawn off and assisting any surviving soldiers. Entering the tower, they were greeted by the snarls of darkspawn and the heat of flames, the stench of blood and ash filling Alistair’s throat. They slashed down every beast before them, Ryleigh often healing him and even commanding him where to go.

 

They made a great team honestly.

 

Reaching the second floor, Ali couldn’t help but note the oddity in this event.

“Maker’s breath!” he said, “What are those darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn’t suppose to be any resistance here.”

“I don’t know!” Rye said, a bit out of breath, “But they’re here, and we must deal with them if we are to light the beacon.”

The letter echoed in his head. What they were doing, wasn’t it technically pointless? Loghain betrays them, he betrays the king and lets him die. Lighting the beacon was meaningless. But perhaps it was necessary, maybe they had to so the events could unfold as foretold.

 

He didn’t know anymore. He felt sick if anything.

 

They continued on, fighting every darkspawn that charged at them. Ryleigh had Alistair’s back though, and he had hers. They never strayed far from each other, in fact Ryleigh made sure to stick beside Ali. Why, he didn’t know, and he didn’t really care. It reassured him.

They reached the top after what felt like hours upon hours, but the battle wasn’t over. An ogre stood before them, surrounded by a pool of blood and decimated soldiers. Ryleigh gagged a bit, but remained tall, staff out and ready. Ali charged with the other two soldiers, slashing and cutting at the beast. Ryleigh boosted their strength with magic, as well as dealt devastating blows to the creature with powerful magic spells.

 

At one point, the ogre lashed out violently, throwing everyone off their feet. Ryleigh flew back a few feet, sliding against the stone floor. Alistair watched as the monster began to approach her, and he panicked.  
“Ryleigh!” he screamed, and threw his shield at the ogre. The beast whipped around and screeched at him, but it gave Ryleigh enough time to sit up and blast it with a ball of fire. It fell backwards, and Ali got up, grabbing his sword and leaping up at the monster. Embedding his sword deep into the monster’s skull, he twisted it, and quickly pulled it out, falling off to grab his shield and stand before Rye. The ogre fell, and after a few moments, Ali realized it was dead.

 

“Thank you,” Rye said, as she wiped blood off her hands, “for saving me just now.”

“Of course!” Ali replied, turning to face her, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” she said, but again, he noticed how her face showed so much emotion, only for the words to come out calm and collected, “Are you okay though?”

“I feel…” he felt a mixture of things, that’s for sure, “... I feel fine.”

Rye didn’t believe him, it was clear with her expression, but he just grinned. Even if he sucked at faking it like Rye, he wasn’t going to let it hinder them.

“Come on now, let’s light the beacon,” he said, “The king is counting on us!”

 

A dead king, Ali couldn’t help but think, as he watched Ryleigh head over and light the beacon. They stood there, staring at it, before Ryleigh looked at him with a triumphant smile.

“We did it!” she said, “We helped Duncan!”

Oh. Right. Duncan was out there as well. Ali smiled back, though it pained him greatly.

Hopefully, they had helped him. He prayed to the Maker they had.

 

A single, stinging woosh beside his ear snapped him out his thoughts, and he looked beside them to see darkspawn making their way up the stairs, firing arrows at them. Some charged, and Ali readied his shield to combat them. But the sound of an arrow hitting flesh, and the soft gasp that came from Ryleigh, made him look back at her in fear.

An arrow was lodged in her chest. She looked at him, confused, afraid, in pain, but that all disappeared when she closed her eyes and fell backwards, blood beginning to spread on her robes.

“No!” he cried, rushing to her, but that was a fatal mistake. He felt a heavy blow to the back of his head, and the world went dark.

 

* * *

 

When he awoke, he smelled stew over a fire, books that had aged and now emitted a musky scent, and, well, dust. He groaned, and sat up, rubbing the back of his head. Where…

The events that unfolded earlier replayed quickly.

 

“Rye!” he cried, only to be quickly hushed. He looked up at Morrigan, the chasid woman from earlier, who looked down at him in disapproval.

“Hush, you’ll disturb her,” she said, as she gestured to Ryleigh, sleeping soundly in the bed next to him. He wanted to get up, to run over and make sure she was truly okay, but with Morrigan standing in between, he only sighed in relief and relaxed.

“How are you… where are we?” he asked, looking up at the woman, “The battle, what happened?”

“My mother rescued you both,” she said, “T’was a close call. The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle.”

 

Alistair’s heart fell.

 

“So… the king… Duncan…”

Morrigan crossed her arms before saying, “What is important is that you both live.”

Alistair only nodded. It was just as the letter foretold. Loghain would betray the king, Duncan, and now, a civil war was to begin within Ferelden. Oh, you couldn’t forget the Blight now. That was a thing too.

Speaking of the letter, he realized he was missing his armor. He looked around, and find it placed carefully at the side of his bed. He reached down, into the pocket within, and pulled out the parchment.

 

"What is that?” Morrigan asked, tilting her head slightly to get a better look.

“A letter,” he only replied, clutching the letter closer to his chest to ensure she couldn’t snoop like the snooper she is, “Could I be left alone? Or, actually, could I go out? You need to tend to Rye, right?”

“If you feel well enough to move, I shall not stop you. I will send your friend out when she awakens.”

Ali nodded, a bit bothered she wasn’t bothered by his actions, and got up. He stopped right before the door though, and looked back at Ryleigh.

 

“Will she be okay?” he asked, and Morrigan nodded.

“The wound was not too bad,” she said, “She’ll awaken sooner or later.”

He smiled, relieved, even though he knew she’d be okay. The letter said so, didn’t it? But he still worried, still wanted to know she would truly be okay.

 

He didn’t want to lose her. Not when they were the only ones left.

 

So with that, he opened the door, and looked around. They were in the Kocari Wilds again, but it was eerily quiet, no birds chirped, no sounds were made. It’s as if everything had gone quiet, to mourn the loss of the men from the battle.

Alistair walked over to the nearest tree, and slid down the trunk, sitting underneath it’s mighty branches. He took a deep breath, and opened the letter, reading what he could.

 

> _I want you to save Ryleigh._
> 
>  
> 
> _The events that I list in this letter, the events that will now happen to you, it will all change the world for the better. That does not mean it has to continue the same way. I want you to not experience any of the regrets I did during this time. I want you to do what I couldn’t do back then. This way, you won’t carry any regrets as I have for the past 10 years._
> 
> _During this time, you and Ryleigh, alongside many other companions, will save Ferelden from the Blight. But this victory was not without sacrifice._
> 
> _10 years in the future, Ryleigh is no longer with us. She died as a hero to Ferelden._
> 
>  
> 
> _Please, keep an eye on her._
> 
> _Ferelden doesn’t know how she suffered._
> 
> _I do._
> 
> _All the promises we made, broken with her death. All of us, those who were with her during this quest, feel regret knowing we could of saved her._
> 
>  
> 
> _That’s why I ask of you, please._
> 
> _Save Ryleigh from her pain._

 

Tears rolled down Alistair’s face. Tears he didn’t realize had been falling for a while. Tears that were a mixture of the pain from losing Duncan, the battle, as well as the pain from knowing that the sweet girl he survived with had died in the end, just like Duncan. That the people he cherished were either gone or soon to be gone. And he curled up, underneath that tree, sobbing quietly with the letter held tightly in his hands.

  
What a tragedy this had become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again!!! how was the fic? please do leave a comment for feedback, its helps me greatly!! and go ahead and leave a comment if you notice any errors!!! again, thank you so, so much for reading the fic, i do hope you are excited for what's to come!! <33
> 
> (contact me at oceanicmarina.tumblr.com!)


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